When Words Can Turn Into A Song
by Catharina Joelle
Summary: Éponine is head over heels in love with her best friend Marius, but when he starts taking her to the Amis' meetings, there's this little spark in the room that seems to catch her attention even more. Éponine enters a world that is new to her - the world she thought, she'd never know. Rated T for 'adult themes' :)
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello...:)  
So, I finally managed to translate another one of my Les-Misérables-Stories into English. I know, it's stupid to work on more than one story at a time, but I just HAD to write this idea down...  
I hope you like it, if you do, please review ;)**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.**_

**Love,**

_**Catharina 3**_

**Chapter 1**

"Marius! You gonna leave me alone tonight? Again?" The reproach was clearly to hear in Éponine's voice. Marius gave her a pitiful look, which made her even angrier than she was. She couldn't understand why he was always spending so much time in a café, surrounded by people, he, as he admitted often enough, didn't even like very much. Well, except Courfeyrac.

"I'm sorry, 'Ponine." Marius tried to hug her goodbye, but she slipped away, still furious. "If you don't want to stay back, why don't you come with me?"

"No, Marius. The boys can't stand me. I'm the gutter sprog, remember?" She could still clearly remember that day when she had accompanied Marius to the cafè. The evening had ended when Grantaire, drunk as he was, started to insult her and she had left the bar close to tears.

"He was drunk, 'Ponine", sighed Marius and it was clear that they weren't having this discussion for the first time. "And he'll be by ten anyway. Just don't bother about that idiot." He smiled before finishing. "And Enjolras will be there."

Èponine rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe that Marius was still teasing her about her obsession about Enjolras' speeches. She just loved the passionate way he spoke, how he filled her heart even though she couldn't understand what he was talking about.

But even more, she hated the fact that Marius still seemed so blind about Éponine's feelings for him. For others it seemed obvious that she had more than just a crush on him, but Marius himself never had realized that his best friend wasn't seeing him the way he did.

"I can't believe you're trying to convince me that way. You know, you're not very persuading", Éponine said, but Marius could see that tiny smile appearing on her lips. He always could tell when he had won over her, and, ignoring her complaints, he grabbed her wrists and dragged her behind him all the way to the little Cafè Musain.

They were already late. At least Enjolras hadn't started his speech yet, but conversations were already high and Grantaire seemed slightly tiddly. He was the first one to catch sight of them when they entered the back room of the café, where the meetings always took place.

"Pontmercy", he growled, then he gazed at Éponine. "And you brought your little ... friend. Awesome." Marius just gave him an annoyed look; Grantaire shrugged his shoulders and turned to counter to order another bottle of wine.

Marius, feeling Éponine's again reproachful and also hurt look, whispered a quick "Sorry!", then he passed a table of a couple of students sunken into a game of cards. Courfeyrac, the one face Éponine still remembered, noticed her first. A smile spread on his face.

"The little friend is here again." Immediately, all attention was on her. Éponine could feel her cheeks burning, and looked at the floor, embarrassed by her blush. She just nodded shyly, surprised by herself. She was usually not the bashful type of girl; she was more of a confident rebel.

"Well, I can already tell the evening will be successful", Courfeyrac grinned; the next moment he was thrown a serious look from Marius. Éponine blushed even more, her face now burning with shame. She knew about Marius' closest friend bedding many women, but she was sure about herself never becoming just a girl on his endless list. She gave Marius a grateful look.

"Well." It was Enjolras breaking the awkward silence. Éponine knew what was about to follow when he pulled up a chair and stood on it. Full of expectations she finally managed to make a move and sat down between Courfeyrac and Marius, her eyes fixed onto Enjolras' mouth, which opened and begin to speak.

Listening to Enjolras' speeches was one of the few moments during day when Éponine was able to forget her unanswered love to Marius. Even though he was sitting close to her, his hands only inches away from hers, her full concentration was on Enjolras.

She wasn't sure what the 'marble leader', as he was called, was saying, she didn't care much about politics, but it was the passionate way he talked that made her shiver. It was just like he was stroking every word before saying it out loud, he chose them so perfectly, the sentences jumbled into each other, forming a lulling fog that wrapped around Éponine. Would she have been to find a word for his speeches – a spoken lullaby would probably have named it best, but the lines didn't make her feel sleepy, but more alive and hopeful.

When Enjolras ended with a glint of a smile, she could be bound to feel a little sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Yeah...finally new chapter ;)_  
_I want to say a huge thank you to all of you that followed this story, it meant so much to me to have such a postive response to the first chapter - so thank you, thank you, thank you! :)_

_Special thanks also to ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo for reading all the chapters beta :)_

**Chapter 2**

"Was it too bad?" Marius asked at the end of the evening, a complacent smirk on his face. Éponine just rolled her eyes, suppressing a mean comment.

Well, actually, Marius was right: The evening had been better than just 'not bad'. To be honest, Éponine had loved to be around people again, around ones who didn't treat like dirt– well, except for Grantaire -, around people who accepted and welcomed her.

Marius didn't even have to ask Éponine to come when he left for the meeting of Les Amis, she attended herself. This time, the students were already greeting her with a grin and a wink; Courfeyrac even got her a beer, even though she didn't really like the expectant look on his face.

Éponine couldn't help but smile when Enjolras stood again on his chair and again, she lost concentration of anything else other than the words leaving his mouth like honey.

Only when he finished and discussions between the students began again did she realize that she had been been holding her breath during the speech. She could feel her heart flattering inside her chest like a nervous bird.

Éponine was sitting next to her nine-year-old brother, Gavroche, who their parents ´had already thrown out onto the streets. His face was dirty and his clothes only rags, but still he seemed happy and satisfied – as long as he got something to eat.

She was deep in her thoughts, watching Marius, who had his back turned to her, the light shimmering in his hair, his hands gesturing as he tried to explain his opinion. She cringed when suddenly someone was in front of her – she hadn't noticed him coming. It was Enjolras, a glass of wine in his hand an inviting, but still serious, look on his face.

"Can I sit?" he asked and, without awaiting her answer, he pulled up a chair from an empty table.

"So...since you've been here a couple of times – Do you actually know what we fight for?" He didn't sound arrogant or boastful, but seemed honestly interested.

Éponine shook her head, slightly embarrassed, but, contrary to her expectations, Enjolras just gave her a little smirk and then sighed.

"We fight for the miserable ones of Paris. We fight for freedom, equality and fraternalism. We fight for the women's and children's rights, for everyone to have a life worth living. We want the same chances for everybody, no matter where they were born. And liberty – for every townsman and every townswomen."

Again, Éponine had lost herself in his flood of words. She couldn't believe that anything from him sounded like a song – and suddenly she wished that she had something she was equally passionate about.

It was agony to Éponine when she had to leave the café at the end of the evening and return to her family. The rest of the time, she had sat with Combeferre, a young student, who strongly believed in the right of education of every citizen. He clearly didn't speak with the same power as Enjolras, but Éponine could feel the same passion and will that also came from the leader of the student group called 'Les Amis de l'ABC'; Combeferre truly believed in what he did.

She walked at her leisure on her way home. She had so much to think about, had learned so much on this evening – a new world had opened to her. She had seen friendship, a family, love – all the things she didn't know herself. She envied these students for their braveness of saying their opinion for their unquestioned belief out loud.

Slowly, Éponine walked along the Seine's bank. She loved watching the bubbling water pouring from the side canals into the main river, the rocking boats dancing up and down and the babbling ducks hiding between them. Often enough she had imagined how it would be to walk along here with Marius, hand in hand, beneath the stars and the silvery moon. He would've stroked her hair and whispered nice things into her ear and she, Éponine, would've just been the happiest person on earth.

But she was only imagining; she realized that long ago. Her visions disappeared at dawn just like the moon and the stars and came back at twilight, when she was alone again.

But Éponine was a grown-up girl. It was time to wake from her dreaming and live her real life – even though there wasn't much to enjoy in reality.

She sighed and turned away from the river, making her way to the centre of Saint-Michele. The little wagon the Thenadiers called their home was placed in a small alley near the café Musain. The one room was only used for sleeping and sometimes –in hard winters –for cooking.

Quietly, Éponine stepped into the wagon. The floor was covered in old sheets and rags, to make it as comfortable as possible. Éponine could identify her sister curled up in her corner. Sighing, she lied down beside her, closed her eyes and rolled on her side. She quickly fell asleep.

Into her dreams, a smoky odour tingled. Still sleepy, she rolled over, trying to doze off again when she realized she wasn't imagining the burning smell.

Within a second, she jumped up, alarmed. Up front, flames were eating away the dry material of the wagon's walls, wandering slowly towards her. Completely in shock, she stood there frozen, unable to move.

Then a small voice resounded from behind her. In the shadows, her eyes filled with terror, Éponine's sister Azelma was still sitting on the ground. "Get up, we have to get out of here!" Éponine shouted, pulling her up from the floor. In panic, she pushed her towards the wagon's door, which was still untouched by the flames. Azelma was jostled into fresh air.

Éponine looked around the alighted wagon. The fire was already everywhere; hectically she looked around for any last few things to take with her, but there wasn't much to be saved. She was just about to exit the wagon when the roof collapsed over her. Scared, she screamed and knelt to the floor, her arms trying to cover her head from harm. She whined when a burning log hit her arm, leaving behind a large wound. Gasping, she stared at the blood flowing from the ripped open skin.

She tried to get up again, lunging for the door knob to get outside - but she couldn't open it. Panic and adrenaline started spreading through her veins, she could feel her heart beating fast and hard. Again, she jolted the handle, trying to open the blocked door – it didn't move at all. She was looked in a burning wagon.

Tears started to fill her eyes for two reasons. The smoke was getting thicker, causing her eyes to burn and water; on the other hand, Éponine had never felt comparable fear. This time, she kicked at the door, screaming, trying to reach the clean air. She started to cough, her throat felt sore and dry.

Caught in the fangs of endless terror, she looked around herself. The flames were steadily moving towards her, closing the circle that surrounded her until now. Behind her, the locked door, next to it a window. Her arm was bleeding strongly; her whole dress was covered with the red, sticky liquid.

Éponine didn't think for a second. She broke the window's glass, punching it through with her fists. Immediately, her hand responded by burning; new cuts were showing, but clean air streamed into the wagon. Without thinking again, Éponine climbed out of the window and fell hard onto the stone ground.

Still in panic, she recovered, looking around for Azelma, but she couldn't find her sister's curly, dark head in the streets. It was early morning, the first sun rays were appearing behind Paris' houses and life in the streets was beginning. The little road was lit up even more by the burning wagon, but Azelma was nowhere to be seen.

"Azelma? 'Zelma!" Éponine screamed, fear filling her lungs with strength. She ran down to the main alley, trying to catch sight of her sister's small body, but the streets were empty except a few early men on their way to work. Interested, they looked at Éponine, covered in blood, grime and dirt, but didn't make any attempts to help her. When they noticed Éponine had caught sight of them, they quickly lowered their heads and hastened their steps.

"Azelma!" Éponine tried a last time, before collapsing finally. Her head hit the ground and she blacked out immediately.

_Already the end, I'm sorry, this chapter is so short...:( But I'll continue as fast as possible ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:Hello! I'm back with a new chapter, but I have to say, it's not beta read yet, so little unpolished sentences structure, etc. could occur. I'll hope you'll enjoy it anyways ;).**

**Please, tell me what you think of it. :)**

Chapter 3

Éponine woke up, her head hammering with ache. It took her a few seconds until she could see clear, her vision was blurry and cloudy.

Then she realised the softness beneath her. Her hands moved slightly, hardly appreciable. She felt rough yet comfortable linens below her palms and by now she had realised the light weight of a duvet thrown over her hurting body. She tried to sit up, only to drop back a second later, letting out a small gasp of pain.

Only now she realised the dark-haired young man watching her anxiously. His brows were pulled up high, giving him an intelligent look, but his eyes seemed worried and concerned.

"You shouldn'talready try to sit." he said and stepped closer to her.

"Who are you?" Éponine asked, it sounded harsher than she had planned to, but still she answered the man's concerned glance with a strong and confident one. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't tell from where she knew him.

"Joly, a friend of Marius", he answered and Éponine couldn't help but feel her heart jumping.

"Is he here?" she asked and a rosy blush started to spread on her cheeks.

"Mademoiselle, you should rest. Monsieur will be here soon."

Éponine honestly felt flattered by Joly calling her Mademoiselle, but the thought of Marius being at her side only in short time made her heart race and her stomach flutter. "How long...?"

"Mademoiselle...You're state of health is critical – I'd advise a lot of repose" Joly said, when the door of the small room swung open and a redheaded, chubby woman entered.

"Chérie, 'you scaring your patients again?" she asked with a rough, loud voice, causing Éponine to flinch as her head ache increased. The woman noticed. "I'm sorry, dear" she said without lowering her pitch. Only now Éponine spotted the tray she was carrying, loaded with an ambrosial bowl of soup, reminding her of her gnawing hunger. She lifted her head only inches from the pillow, the woman sat on the end of the bed and started feeding her spoon by spoon.

When she was finished – not without making a mess on top of the blanket – Éponine turned back to Joly, who was still watching her and, from time to time, made notes on a small piece of paper.

"What happened?" she finally asked, a question burning inside her since she had woken up. The woman, who had introduced herself as Musichetta, suddenly stood up quickly and left the room without looking back, leaving Éponine with an uneasy feeling.

"Monsieur, what happened?" she asked again, this time more insistent. She noticed he was avoiding her eyes and both anger and fear filled her.

"Don't you want to wait..."

"Tell me, Monsieur." Éponine sounded serious and her voice allowed no delay.

Joly sighed, then took a deep breath before he started to explain. "We're not complete sure, Éponine, but...it seems like your father's gang lit up your home on Tuesday."  
"Tuesday? What day is today?" Éponine interrupted, suddenly touched with panic.

"It's Saturday...but it's okay..."

"I was out for _three_ days?" Éponine sounded piercing and sharp and she sat up hastily. Immediately, pain shot through her bones and muscles.

"Éponine...your sister..." Instantly, Joly had Éponine's full attention back, her brown eyes gaped in horror. "No, no" he calmed her, trying to push her back down on the mattress, "She's with Feuilly, she's fine. It's more about your parents." He closed his eyes in pain and Éponine could sense that bad news were about to hit her. "Your father had a...controversy with the _Patron-Minette_. Something about money he didn't pay back. That was at least what Brujon could tell us. As revenge, they ignited the caravan and him... Éponine, I'm sorry. We're not sure whether he's alive."

She held her breath, lying there frozen. Her face showed no emotion. For seconds, silence hang in the room. Then she spoke, her voice shaky and articulated. "And my mother?"

Joly shook his head, a pitiful mien. "We don't know where she is."

Éponine felt empty, alone. It wasn't like her parents had always been the best company. They surely weren't good parents and too often, she had wished away from then. But now, knowing that at least her father was gone – she could virtually feel a part of her die. She didn't love them very much, but her family was breaking apart; the only people caring about her were disappearing.

She would've probably insisted on getting up, but in that moment the door opened again and Marius appeared in the threshold. Éponine's face immediately lit up, similar to sun rise. Life returned to her eyes, that were now shiny and happy.

"Can I come in?" Marius asked and the sound of his voice made Éponine's heart jump. She nodded fiercely, ignoring the soaring pain spreading in her forehead.

"You're awake" Marius said and came closer to her bed, Éponine couldn't help but lifting her head a few inches to see his face in his full beauty. He was unshaved, his eyes seemed sunken and his hair was messy – he looked tired and worn-out. For some reason, seeing him in this seedy state, Éponine could feel a rush of hope gliding through her.

"Yes" she answered, wearing a bright smile that didn't quite fit her state of health. "I'm good."

Marius made a small laugh and sat at the end of the bed, causing Éponine's heart to race. "Are you sure about that? 'Ponine, you've been really injured. You're arm was completely burned." He pointed towards her arm, that was covered in bandages. She wasn't even able to move it.

She shrug her shoulder's, as far as possible. "I'll survive it" she said, feeling the same mixture of endless calm and exciting riot she always had around him. "I'm a tough girl, grown-up. I can care for myself."

Again, Marius looked at her like she was ridiculous. "When Enjolras found you in the streets, he hardly recognised you" he said, throwing her a knowing look she didn't like at all. "Joly says, you're lucky, you're even alive."

In the next days, Èponine learned that Joly was always expecting people to die any second, but even though he was hypochondriac and often way more worried than necessary, she liked being in his and Musichetta's company. They always tried entertaining her as best as they could, accompanied by the third member of the household, Lesgle, named Bossuet. Éponine couldn't believe it when the three of them told her about their triangle relationship, how they were living together as a triple. But she loved feeling the harmony and airiness between them and soon, she began to feel more comfortable in their maintenance.

Musichetta whipped the most gorgeous meals, Bossuet told her about his notoriously unlucky life – he was aged 25, but already bald – while Joly was worrying about the results of all the examinations he made on Éponine.

It had been a week since Joly had allowed Éponine for the first time to get up. She was still in shaky condition, but for the sake of Joly, who hadn't attended one of the Amis' meetings since they had found her, she finally dressed in one of Musichetta's robes and followed Joly and Bossuet out onto the dark streets of Paris.  
The lighted windows shone onto the street, glimmering like a spark of hope in the evening's darkness. Behind them, the shadows of men were moving, their serious voices carried out onto the streets. It was clear that Enjolras had already started his speech.

The room went silent, when Bossuet, Joly and Éponine entered, all attention on them. For a moment, silence hung in the room, Grantaire finally broke it. "Look, who's here" he babbled, swinging around his half-empty wine bottle. "Marius' private little slave. I thought, slavery wasn't legal these days."

Nobody answered, everybody remaining silent after Grantaire's insult. It wasn't only Éponine turning red, but Marius' face as well empurpled quickly.

"Grantaire, how about you either hold your tongue or leave" Courfeyrac finally said, his voice piercing. Éponine threw him a grateful look, but couldn't help feeling her eyes filling with tears. Merde!, she thought, What was wrong with her these days that she cried so much?

One more week Éponine accepted Joly's care, but when September began, she insisted on leaving. She wasn't sure, where to go – her home was burnt, her parents still missing – but she couldn't handle the fact she was sinking deeper into Joly's debts. She had always hated relying on others and so did she know. Only keeping one dress from Musichetta she left the trio's flat in the morning, heading towards Feuilly's dwelling, an old, pretty house near the neighbourhood's market.

Éponine hadn't seen her younger sister since the fire at the caravan and as she now stood across from her, she realised how much she had changed in the last two weeks. Her cheeks, usually cavernous and pale, were rosy and fresh, flourishing in her youth; her hair was brushed and smooth, falling in shiny waves down her shoulders and she was wearing a dress Éponine did not recognise. She must've borrowed it from someone.

They hugged blustering, laughing and whining at the same time. "'Ponine, you never dare to scare me like that again" Azelma gasped, peeling from Éponine's cuddle.

Éponine nodded, standing still for a second and then embracing Azelma again, over and over again.

Only now she realised Feuilly, a student, she recognised from the Amis meetings. His arms crossed over and an amused smile on his lips, he was leaning against the walls in the corridor, watching them with slight interest.

"Èponine, you know, your sister can be such a nag" he said, but smiling affectionately. Both of the sisters laughed, showing the same glittering eyes and bright smiles.

"It's not hard to believe" answered Éponine "I know, I can be such a pain in the neck myself."

"You're so right" Feuilly grinned.

Éponine didn't even think about apologizing.

**So, what do you think? ;) **

**Next chapter will be more E/E ... :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I finally got to upload the next chapter, so here it is. :)**

**Please tell me what you think! ;)**

**Chapter 4**

_ Two Weeks Later_

Éponine and Azelma had moved into a little hut near the river, a little one-room barrack, windowless, but safe against the elements, bought from the money Joly had given them. Éponine was sure she would pay it back to him one day, but the two sisters hardly had any money for a proper meal a day. It didn't take long until the two of them started stealing again, a skill, they had learned and grown up with over the years, taught by their father who was now in the slammer.

It was only a question of luck until a plan went wrong. Afterwards, Éponine couldn't tell where the mistake had been, but she didn't blame her sister, that was for sure.

Éponine and Azelma had taken a closer look for the man they were planning to rob. He looked wealthy, flaunting around with his shiny, black hat and drawing his fat purse from time to time. He seemed so careless and lavishly, Éponine was sure he wouldn't miss the couple of Francs jingling in his coat's pockets.

They sneaked nearer towards him, eyes and ears open for any noise from the police. The man was ambling between the booths offering fruit and meat, unobservant to any possible disruptions. He was about to examine a net of apples, when Éponine, tiny and alert, crept towards him, her hand fishing for the coins in his pockets. She was just about to pull them from the luxurious material, when fingers, cold and tight, winded around her wrist.

She gasped in horror when the man turned her around, so she would look right up into his face. His dark eyes were burning with anger as they pierced into her warm and brown ones, his lip twitched uncontrolled in his rage.

"You little slut, you dare to..." he began cursing, but luckily Azelma reacted instinctively, using a passing, old man's cane to hit the robbed man into the back of his knees. He yelled and cruised around, furious and enraged, dangerous in temper. Éponine used convenient moment to wind from his grip.

"Azelma!" Éponine cried, starting to run from the crowded market place in which the riot hadn't attracted any attraction. She looked back to see her sister sprinting in the opposite direction. She had no choice, but to keep on running. The man had spotted her again and she could hear him screaming for the police.

Silently, she cursed as she pushed through the crowd, already hearing the voice of everyone's most feared inspector Javert in her neck. She sped up, even though the jostle of an early Saturday morning slowed her down.

Panting, she stumbled from between the people, entering a small, but empty alley. She didn't allow herself a very long break and carried on running, but she could already feel her still slightly injured leg starting to hurt, a pain spreading through her muscles and bones. Still breathless, she kept walking, taking easy steps now.

For a second she thought about going home, where she hoped to find Azelma, but their new home was already registered – they would just have to find out her name. Éponine was sure Azelma was clever enough to think of that. There was nothing else she could do than wander around Paris and hope to find her somewhere.

Éponine couldn't believe it. As fast as they had gotten their new home, they had already lost it again. Azelma and she were back on the streets with nothing but what they wore. No money for food, nothing to trade with except... No! Éponine banned that thought from her mind, before it even appeared complete.

Sunken in her mind, she turned into a new lane, when she stopped abruptly. She was already on her heel to turn back, but they had already spotted her. Having a new track, she heard the police men running after her, growling, the loudest one of them Javert.

Éponine hadn't felt that kind of fear very often in her life. Her heart pounding, she raced back from where she had come, looking back from time to time. Twice she hoped to outdistance them, but they were fast. And they were catching up.

Avoiding the crowded market, Éponine turned towards a brought alley, turning around a last time – when she cannoned into somebody. Stumbling back from the crash, she looked upwards, in fear of seeing another police officer.

She couldn't help but sigh relieved when she recognised Enjolras. His face showed confusion and concern.

"Èponine, what...?" he began, but she interrupted, pulling him into a gap between two houses. She dragged him in front of her, trying to cover herself from the police men, but the amused look she got from a passing woman clearly showed her, he wasn't protection enough.

"Pretend you're my boyfriend" she whispered, already hearing Javert's furious voice echoing through the streets.

"Excuse me?"

Éponine rolled her eyes. That was typically Enjolras, polite in any situation.

"Now!" she ordered, pulling him towards her. Without thinking twice, she pressed her lips on his. She could feel his confusion, but he played along, grabbing her wrist and bending her over.

Over his shoulder, Éponine could identify Javert's bright blue uniform, the dark hat, the bearded face. He only threw a small glance at them, mistaking them for a passionate couple, but Éponine couldn't suppress her fingers clenching into Enjolras' hair.

The police men kept running, but Éponine only relaxed, when the sound of their steps had disappeared behind the houses.

She detached herself from him, avoiding the piercing and questioning look from his burning blue eyes.

"Thank you", she murmured, "I think I owe you."


End file.
